


The Possible Thing

by annathaema (moony)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron)-centric, Character Death Fix, F/M, Fix-It, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Lance (Voltron), Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 02:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moony/pseuds/annathaema
Summary: The Lion hovers overhead, sending plumes of dust and gravel into the air. She can’t land, the roof is too small, but she gets low enough that she can open her mouth and rest her chin on the ledge. Lance doesn’t hesitate; he charges right in and comes to a complete stop just inside, unable to process what he’s seeing at first:Allura, curled up like a question mark on the floor of the cargo bay.--In which Allura comes home and Curtis is nowhere to be found. Guaranteed happy ending, this is some feel-good shit right here, my dudes. Because self-care is important.





	The Possible Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Rachel for cheerleading. :D
> 
> This came out of nowhere and is probably full of continuity problems and handwavey logic. I hope you like it anyway.

__

_Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.”_

_“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day._ _Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast._ _”_

_—_

 

There’s a low moon on the horizon and nighttime desert creatures _meep_ in the near distance when Lance steps out onto the roof of the Garrison. He’s not normally here overnight, but he’d had a meeting with the other Paladins earlier and another one tomorrow, and it was just easier to stay in his old quarters. He wraps his arms around himself, wishing he’d put something a little thicker on than just his robe. As warm as it is in the desert during the day, it gets freaking _Arctic_ after dark, and the sun has been down for a long time so the air is pretty frigid. At the very least it’s got to be past 1am and no more than 40 degrees.

Lance isn’t typically up this late, but tonight he’s restless, tired but unable to settle. Normally he’d go hang out with Red or Blue, but it’s been months since the Lions departed, so the roof is the best he can do. He fights a yawn and winces—he’s going to have a rough time tomorrow. Staying at the Garrison means a stricter timeclock, and 0600 hours comes up on you fast if you’re still awake past lights-out. These days he’s used to being up before dawn to hang out with Kaltenecker a bit before he gets to milking her, so late nights are pretty much a thing of the past for him.

Being outside in the starlight however is leaching the tension from his shoulders and relaxing the tightness in his spine. The breeze feels like the play of fingers against his cheeks. It’s cold, but comforting. He doesn’t want to go back in—though he’s tempted to go in long enough to grab a blanket and just sleep up here all night. As it is he sits down, drawing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. He rests his chin on his knee and looks up at the mammoth sky, the cascade of light from the Milky Way stretched all around him. Lance looks in what he thinks is the right direction and after a moment spots a relatively bright little smudge of stars—maybe a galaxy, he thinks, but probably a distant nebula, why didn’t he bring a telescope?—and gives it a faint smile.

“It’s cold out here,” he says, and he immediately feels stupid for talking to himself, but he’s not really talking to _himself_. “I mean, it’s cold, and if you were here I’d put my arm around you. Probably wouldn’t help, I can’t feel my toes, but it’s the thought that counts?

“I miss you,” he whispers, more to himself than to that little patch of stardust. “I really, really miss you. I thought—I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you. I mean, I told my mom. She said I could have Mima’s ring whenever I was ready.” He exhales slowly, wearily. “I was ready, Allura.” He all but mouths the words. “I was ready.”

He shifts a little, folding himself up smaller. The stars seem to move with him. “I know you had to do what you did, but—it was so _unfair_.” He chokes up and blinks several times before his vision mostly clears and the moon is no longer a blur. “We just got started,” he says, voice quiet and tight. “We barely had a chance.”

Lance finds that nebula again. “I thought you were beautiful before,” he murmurs. “But look at you now.”

Another yawn takes him and he stares blearily at the smudge in the sky and for some reason it looks like it’s getting _bigger_. Or brighter. Lance rubs his eyes and looks again, but he still can’t tell, he’s too tired and very blurry from the crying he definitely hadn’t done. He grunts, gets up and stretches, rubbing his hands over his arms to thaw them out a little.

Something streaks across the sky, bright as the sun. The sonic boom sets off car alarms in the distant parking lot.

“Holy shit!” Lance falls over. He has a sudden flashback to that night—holy crow, it’s been _so long_ since then—when he ended up in a space war for like five years. He half-expects to see explosions in the canyon and the dust trail of a hoverbike.

Something catches in his throat and he realizes it’s _nostalgia_ , and he doesn’t even know how to unpack that.

“Hey!” Lance turns and Pidge is jogging up to him, clad in panda pajamas. “What the hell was that?”

“You saw it?” he asks.

“I heard it,” she says. “I was up working on my thesis, my window was open. What _was_ it?!”

“I don’t know,” he says. But “I’m having the _weirdest_ deja vú right now.”

“Good, I’m not the only one,” says Pidge. There’s another boom, close enough to nearly knock them off their feet again, and this time the streak of light is heading

right

for

them

“Pidge, _duck_ ,” he says, throwing himself in front of her. She crouches down behind him and Lance braces himself for whatever’s about to hit them, knowing full well they’re both goners no matter what he does. He squeezes his eyes shut.

There’s a terrific roar. It sounds _familiar_.

Lance opens his eyes and his heart skips against his ribs. “Blue!”

The Lion hovers overhead, sending plumes of dust and gravel into the air. She can’t land, the roof is too small, but she gets low enough that she can open her mouth and rest her chin on the ledge. Lance doesn’t hesitate; he charges right in and comes to a complete stop just inside, unable to process what he’s seeing at first:

Allura, curled up like a question mark on the floor of the cargo bay.

Lance yells something, he’s not even sure what, and drops to gather her into his arms, pressing two fingers to the side of her neck. Her hair is tangled around her, damp like her sallow skin. When he feels a pulse, thready but there, he laughs. It might be a little hysterical, but his chest feels like it’s about to hit lightspeed. She’s _here_ , she’s back, she’s gloriously _alive_.

Pidge comes up behind him. “What— Holy shit.” Lance doesn’t look back, he’s too focused on pushing the hair away from Allura’s tired face. Her mouth’s open, lips slightly parted. She’s only just breathing.

“Allura,” he whispers. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

A moment passes before Allura’s eyes fly open. She sucks in huge lungfuls of air and immediately begins to cough. Lance rubs her back as she heaves for air, clutching at him like she’s drowning. She pitches to the side and he catches her, easing her down until her head is in his lap. She coughs up liquid, he’s not sure what it is, but he’s not going to care so long as it leaves her body.

“Lance,” she wheezes. “Lance—”

He tilts her face up a little so that she can see him. He waits until her glassy eyes focus on his and she blinks in recognition before grinning.

“Hey, beautiful.” Lance brushes his knuckles against her cheek. “Are you real?”

“Are—are _you_ real?” she murmurs hoarsely, reaching up to touch his chin in wonder. “ _How_ are you real? Where am I?”

“I’m real, you’re real, and you’re _back_ ,” he says, laughing again. He realizes then that she’s naked and shivering, so he pulls off his robe and drapes it over her. Her eyes are big as she stares up at him, brighter than the nebula had been—oh.

“They weren’t stars,” he says happily, knowing Allura won’t know what he’s talking about but saying it out long anyway. “It was Blue.” He looks up at the ceiling, brimming with _so_ much love. “You brought her home. Thank you, girl.”

There’s a tickle at the back of his mind, the buzz of another consciousness next to his. Their connection had dimmed when Allura took up Blue, but the bond between Lance and his first Lion never severed. Blue’s presence is familiar and teasing and cheerful, and Lance has missed it so _much_.

He wonders where the others are.

He hears footsteps coming up the ramp behind them. Pidge must have gone to get the others. Someone gasps—Hunk—and then there’s a small presence at his side.

“Allura!” Pidge worms her way in, eyes round and wet. “You’re alive!”

“How are you not dead?” asks Hunk. Lance scowls up at him, he ducks his head guiltily. “Okay, sorry. It’s rude to ask someone why they aren’t dead.”

“It’s alright, Hunk, I didn’t really die,” she says. Her voice is rough and soft. Lance’s hand sifts through her hair, carefully working out the snarls. He can’t believe this is happening, and he fully expects to wake up any minute now, alone in his bedroom in the dark, with the faint smell of juniberries haunting the shadows of his sleep.

“I did not die. I was part of all realities,” says Allura wearily. “I was—is Shiro here?”

“I’m here.” Shiro drops down next to them. Keith is right behind him, eyes wide and face pale. He doesn’t come any closer, but for once Lance isn’t offended. He’s used to Keith’s wariness, and he’s actually grateful that someone’s being cautious when he absolutely _can’t_.

“Princess, it’s so good to see you,” says Shiro softly, taking one of her limp hands. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she says. She slips her hand out of his and touches his face. “Shiro, when you were in Black’s consciousness, what did it feel like?”

“Like nothing,” he says immediately. “But at the same time I felt… fluid, like air and water.” Shiro swallows. “Like time. Not linear time, though.”

“Yes,” she says, nodding eagerly. “That is what it was like. Only instead of the consciousness of a Lion, it was the consciousness of _all_ things.” She sighs and closes her eyes. Lance can feel the sag to her body, she’s exhausted.

“Man, you should be totally crazy by now!” says Hunk. There’s a thump and an _ow_. “Again, sorry,” Hunk sounds contrite. “Just—Allura, so much has happened to you and you’re so calm about it. I’m still freaked out by what happened to _me_ and really, it wasn’t _that_ much. I mean, okay, it was a huge space war with giant robots, but becoming _all of reality,_ that’s, like, _way_ more intense—”

“Hunk,” says everyone, including Allura. She chuckles lightly and it’s the best sound Lance has ever heard.

“Right,” says Hunk. “I’m just gonna, y’know, stop talking now.”

“She needs the medbay,” says Shiro. “Lance, you got her?”

“Yeah, I got her,” he says, hefting her into his arms and getting to his feet. Keith steadies him with a hand on his elbow. Lance nods his thanks. Keith’s being oddly silent, and that’s when Lance notices that he’s got his knife on him, the holster buckled low on his hips.

“Do you sleep with that thing on?” he asks as they carry Allura out of Blue and across the roof to the stairs.

Keith scowls. “No.”

“Sometimes,” says Shiro.

Lance rolls his eyes. Allura makes a sound that could be a laugh.

“Keith,” she says, reaching out to him. Keith steps up and takes her hand, walking alongside them. “Thank you for being cautious. I would think I was in the wrong place if you weren’t.”

He says nothing, just kisses the back of her hand. He doesn’t let go until Lance has to squeeze past the clutch of bewildered onlookers—including a speechless Iverson—gathered on the roof, and then he acts as crowd control, urging people back so Lance can get through.

If the medics are surprised when they bring a naked Altean princess into the infirmary at two in the morning, Lance doesn’t care. He almost doesn’t let go of her because he’s only _just_ got her back, and she’d been taken away too soon the first time. Shiro and Keith’s steady hands on his shoulders are almost enough to convince him to let the medics take her, but in the end it’s Allura, because Lance can’t refuse her anything she asks.

“I’m alright,” she says breathlessly, sounding winded from their journey from the roof. He can see that she’s woozy again. “Lance, I’m fine.”

Someone takes her from him—Shiro. Lance sees her handed off to the medics but he doesn’t see anything beyond the limpness of her limbs and the heaviness of her beautiful, ruined hair. Keith steers Lance into a chair and gently shoves him into it. Someone has retrieved his robe from Allura and tosses into his lap. He puts it on mechanically.

“She’s gonna be okay,” says Keith, sitting next to him.

“You don’t know that,” says Lance, slumping in his seat. “She was the center of the universe for a long time. What if that did something to her? What if Hunk’s right and she’s _not_ okay?”

“Then we’ll handle it.” Keith reaches over and grabs Lance’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Someone takes up his other hand, and Lance looks over. Pidge. She’s holding on tight and then she leans against him, her head against his shoulder. Lance feels something metal and heavy on his shoulder. Hunk sits in the chairs across from them, leaning forward so he can press his feet up against Lance’s.

They sit in silence for a long moment, before Pidge sits up.

“Who’s going to call Coran?”

—

Coran is, as expected, beside himself. It takes all of them to keep him distracted until Allura’s ready for visitors. Lance, in a fit of kindness, lets Coran go first.

“They’re family,” he tells Keith when he asks. They can hear Coran from their seats in the waiting room, wailing periodically followed by chattering in a frantic Altean-that-weirdly-sounds-like-New-Zealand accent. “He didn’t even get to say goodbye when she—left.” He clears his throat. _She didn’t die_ , he reminds himself. _It just felt like she did._

Coran comes out of Allura’s room, dabbing at his eyes and sniffling loudly.

“She’s back!” he cries, lunging at Lance and clinging to him. “Our Princess is back!” He weeps right into Lance’s ear, planting the seeds of a future headache. Lance tries to extricate himself but it’s slow going, and Coran is _still_ sobbing.

“Yeah,” says Keith, clapping Coran on the shoulder. “Why don’t we go cry it out?”

“I haven’t got time for crying!” says Coran. “We must plan a celebration immediately!” He’s already bouncing off the walls—kind of literally—and ticking things off on his fingers: “Music. Dancing. Music and dancing! And food—Hunk? Where is Hunk? I need him to stop what he’s doing this instant and—”

“Maybe we should let the Princess recover, first.” Keith steers Coran toward the exit. “C’mon, my friend, they’ve got nunvil in the canteen now, and it’s even more disgusting which means it’s good, probably. I’ll even drink with you in honor of Allura.” He looks over Coran’s shoulder at Lance and mouths _you owe me_. Lance gives him a wink and a thumbs-up, grateful as hell. Owing Keith a favor stings, but it’s for a good cause—Allura doesn’t need a party _,_ not right now.

“You can come in, sir,” says the nurse, waving him toward Allura’s room. Lance scrambles to the door, nearly knocking Keith and Coran over.

“Sorry!” he calls over his shoulder, ignoring their grumbles. Outside the door, he runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before pulling the door open.

“Lance!”

Allura’s sitting up in her hospital bed. There are tubes and wires running into her wrists and a cannula in her nose. The heart monitor beside the bed beeps steadily with the odd skip of Altean hearts. She looks pale and small against the pillows, dressed in an ill-fitting hospital gown, her hair now pulled back from her face in a hasty, messy braid. She holds her arms open to him.

Lance beelines to her bedside and wraps his arms around her. “About time you got back,” he says into her neck, delighting in her laugh.

“I’m very tired, so I’m not sure how long I can stay awake,” she says, pulling away to look at him. “I feel as though I’ve gone a few rounds with the training gladiators. But I wanted to see you.”

“You always could kick their asses.” Lance clutches her hands in his, like he’s afraid she’ll lift off and float away. “I bet you still could. We’re going to get you out of here, Hunk and my mom will get you fed, some awesome clothes. A place to sleep—your own room in the Garrison if you want, until we can figure something else out. Or you could live with the Holts, they already offered, or—” For some reason he can’t quite say it, but he knows she can hear the words as plain as if he had: _you could come live with me._

Allura shakes her head. “That’s all very lovely, I’m most appreciative, but… I’d like to go back to Altea— _New_ Altea,” she says in a quiet voice. Lance stills. She looks up at him, face determined. “I want to go home.”

He looks at her, at the pain in her eyes and set of her jaw. “Then we will,” he blurts, he’s surprised there’s no immediate regret or panic. Just conviction. “If you want me to, that is. I’ll go. In a heartbeat.” His mom is going to _kill_ him, but he doesn’t care. Allura’s gasp is worth it.

“You will?” she asks, some of the tension draining from her voice, replaced by something hopeful. “You’d come with me?”

“Yep,” says Lance, grinning. “Of course I would. Until you get sick of me.”

“I would never,” she says, grinning. She strokes his hair. “I’m really very attached to you.”

Lance preens. “Pidge is already trying to figure out how Blue found you and brought you back,” he says. Allura smiles.

“We may never know,” she says, sitting back against her pillow. She looks peaceful, even though there are bags under her eyes and damp hair sticking to her temples. “I’m not sure how. I asked Coran, and he doesn’t know, either. My father would know, but—” She sighs. “He’s entirely beyond my reach, now. I shall never see him again.”

“I’m sorry,” says Lance. He truly is. The only thing that had helped him cope with Allura’s absence was the thought that she was with her father. “I know that’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

“Lance,” she says earnestly. “You must not believe that. I love my father, I always will, but there’s plenty of room in my heart for you as well. All of you, but especially you.” She shakes her head. “I hope you never ask me to choose. It would be terribly unfair.”

“I know,” says Lance. He does know. “I wouldn’t be able to choose between one of my siblings and one of my parents. I know what they’d want, but for me it would be impossible.” He swallows. “And now there’s you. Ms. Impossible.”

“It _is_ impossible,” she says, pulling away and wrapping her arms around herself. “By rights, I should not be here. This is the Lions’ doing, but I don’t know how they did it.” Allura looks up at the ceiling in thought. “I thought my journey ended in that place. It was supposed to, it was the right answer. I felt it in my heart, Lance. You must understand. There was no other way.”

“I believe you,” he says, taking her hands in his. “Babe, I believe you.”

“But now I feel… changed. I don’t know if I describe it.” She shakes her head. “I feel lighter. Like a burden has been lifted. I feel as though I’ve been set on a new path. I don’t know what it is, but I think I will find it on Altea. I think my purpose may start there.”

Lance looks at their hands, clasped together tightly. “I meant it,” he says. “Where you go, I go. I’ll miss my family, but. I want a life with you, whether it’s on Altea or Earth.”

Allura pulls him in—weak as she is, she’s still Altean-strong, and Lance can’t help but grunt when she yanks on his arms and kisses his face, over and over, his cheeks and his nose and his eyelids. Eventually she lands on his mouth and he forgets everything for a few minutes.

A throat is cleared. Lance pulls away and scowls at the intruder—Keith. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry _enough_. “They sent us in. Should have knocked.”

“Yes, you should have,” says Lance. Allura swats him. “I mean, sure, come on in, our dearest friend.”

Keith makes a face at him. He’s got a bouquet of sunflowers in his arms that he sets on the bedside table. “Where the hell did you get those?” asks Lance, annoyed that he hadn’t thought of flowers first. “It’s January.”

“Colleen,” says Keith. “I asked her for something she thinks best represents Earth. She’s got a bunch of them in the greenhouse.”

“They’re lovely, Keith,” says Allura, reaching out and touching the petals. “Earth’s flowers are beautiful. I’m glad to see some I’ve never seen before.”

Lance huffs at Keith’s smug little smile.

“Okay, yeah, I know they’re here. Where are they??” he asks.

The others spill into the room, chattering excitedly. Even Shiro’s got his own bouquet—something in a lurid pink that seems to make Keith cringe when he sees it, he’s not alone—and he’s trying to inch around Hunk to put them next to the other flowers on the table. Hunk’s got a pot of Altean stew, ranting about how _she’s too skinny and just what did they feed her in the center of all realities_. Lance worries that the chaos will overwhelm Allura, but she seems content to listen to Pidge trying to tell her everything they’ve been up to in the last year in one breath. She has a smile on her face and she’s nodding in all the right places. When she speaks, the others hang on her every word.

After a few minutes, Lance is this close to kicking them all out, but he has to admit that he’s really missed the six of them being together in one place, talking and laughing again like it’s the lounge on the Castle-ship. He’s missed it, and he’s surprised by how much, so much that it leaves him with an ache in his chest as he looks around at all of them before his gaze lands on Allura and stays there.

“Lance.” Allura waves her hand in front of his eyes, and he huffs and bats it away. Everyone laughs. “There you are,” she says. “Where were you?”

“Sorry, took a field trip to the astral plane,” he says. When the others look alarmed he realizes his joke has fallen flat. “Just kidding, kidding.” He taps his temple and winks. “Just daydreaming.” He ducks out of the way of Pidge’s tiny, powerful fist. “But I think you guys—” he points at them “—should skedaddle now. Allura’s gotta rest up. Rebuilding the universe is exhausting.”

“How would you know?” mutters Pidge. Lance shoots her a look, and she crosses her arms and sulks. “Yeah, okay. Allura, we’ll see you later?”

“Yes, I’d love for you to come back. I’ll be sure to rest up for your visit,” she says. “I don’t know how long they’ll want to keep me here. I’m sure they have a lot of tests they’d like to run on an _alien_.” She makes air quotes. Everyone laughs.

“Not for long, if I can help it,” says Lance darkly. “I’ll pull rank. Blue’s back, I can squash a building if they don’t let you out. The cafeteria sucks, you know.”

Shiro clears his throat and Lance instinctively settles down. Keith might be their leader, but Shiro will always be Space Dad. “If it’s anything like when they found out I’m a, uh, _whatever_ , they’ll keep you for a couple of weeks, maybe longer. You’ve done an impossible thing and scientists _love_ impossible things.”

“You’re not helping, man!” Lance cries, irritated at Shiro being _Shiro_ , Space Dad respect or not. “You’re supposed to be reassuring, and stuff!”

“I’ll see what I can do,” says Shiro, ignoring him, “to at least keep any tests they run non-invasive.”

“Thank you, Shiro,” says Allura.

“ _And now, goodnight,_ ” says Lance getting up and shoving Keith out of the way, to the door. Keith must be feeling really magnanimous toward him because he only scowls a little and jerks away without any heat.

“Maybe you should let _Allura_ decide,” says Pidge. “Maybe she wants us to stay longer?”

Everyone looks at Allura. She’s asleep.

They all shuffle out quietly. The nurses don’t make Lance leave, however. Instead they find him a nicer chair and a blanket, and he curls up in it right beside Allura’s bed, out of the way but close enough to take her hand. It’s soft, cold, limp in his, but he holds on as though he’s the only thing keeping her on the ground.

He stays with her for hours before the nurses finally send him home to sleep.

—

After two weeks in the medbay, mostly sleeping and regaining her strength, Allura’s finally due to be released. She’s still got a long road to recovery, so the Garrison finds a nice apartment for her in the barracks. Because of the short notice it’s very sparsely furnished, only a couple of chairs and a bedfram, so before Allura moves in Lance brings some furniture from his own house and retrieves her things that he’d put into storage, unable to throw or give anything away. It’s not enough, though. She needs a _home_ , not a hotel room.

“Hey,” Lance corners Pidge outside her lab. “You’re a girl, right?”

Pidge just stares at him. “That was, like, episode 6, Lance.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I am, indeed, a girl. Please continue, but think real hard, first, before you speak.”

Lance snorts. “I just want to find some stuff for Allura. The room they gave her is boring. She needs something better while she’s recovering, something that more home-y.”

“What does me being a girl have to do with that?” asks Pidge. “Lance, you spent years in space with me. Do you really think _I_ would know about decorating an apartment?”

“I don’t know!” Lance throws his hands in the air. “You probably know more than I do?”

Pidge takes out her communicator and offers it to him. “Want to call my mom and ask her about my bedroom?”

Lance sighs. “Alright, alright. Then who should I ask?”

Pidge shrugs. “Try Romelle. Or Hunk’s pretty good at this stuff,” she says. “Or Shiro.”

“Shiro?” Lance blinks. “Really?”

Pidge nods. “He probably knows how to adult better than any of us.”

She’s not wrong, so Lance makes his way to the officers’ quarters, flashing his ID at the guards stationed outside. They stand a little straighter as he walks by, and that is _never_ going to get old. He finds Shiro’s door and taps the little panel on the wall.

“Yeah?” The voice is tinny and weird. Lance frowns.

“Shiro? It’s Lance.”

The door slides open. Lance peers inside and sees Keith lounging on the sofa with _A Brief History of Time_. “Where’s Shiro?”

Keith jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the hall. “Shower,” he says. “What’s up?”

“Ugh,” says Lance. He sinks into the armchair, slouching with his legs splayed out in front of him. “I want to help make Allura’s room look nice and more like somewhere you’d actually want to _live in_ , but I don’t know where to start.” It feels weird still to confide in Keith, though he’s getting used to it the more he does it. “Like, I think I know what she likes, but what if I’m wrong?”

“You’ll never know unless you ask,” says Keith. “Or is it supposed to be a surprise?”

Lance nods and looks at his hands. “Stupid, I know.”

Keith puts his computer aside and sits up. “Not stupid,” he says. “I did the same thing for Shiro when he moved in here.”

“Wait, really?” Lance looks around. “You did this?”

“Yeah. I know Shiro well enough to just go with my gut on what he would like. And I remember how much of his old place was him and what was Adam’s influence.”

“Oh,” says Lance. He takes a deep breath. “Help me out?”

Keith nods. “Sure,” he says. He gets up and grabs his jacket. “Hang on.” He heads down the hall and Lance hears the bathroom door open, and muffled voices. The door closes and Keith returns. “Shiro can’t come along, he has meetings all day, but he’s also _really bad at this_ so it’s probably good that he stays out of it.”

“Really?” Lance follows him out. “He seems so together.”

“Oh, no,” says Keith, laughing. Lance is happy to hear it, Keith’s laughs are infrequent enough that if he set his mind to it Lance could probably remember every occasion where Keith had laughed. “Shiro is a disaster.”

“Pidge said he knows how to adult,” says Lance. Keith snorts. “I’m guessing that’s a big, fat no?”

“No. I pick out the things he buys, especially stuff he gives people. He can’t do it himself.” Keith flashes his ID at the guards and they’re let into the ground vehicles paddock, where Keith keeps his bike. “Shiro unironically likes _clowns_ , for fuck’s sake.”

Lance is appalled. “What’s _wrong_ with him?”

Keith shakes his head and dangles his keys in front of Lance’s face. “You want to drive?”

“Really?” Lance brightens, grabbing for them. Keith is fierce about his bike.

“No,” says Keith, snatching them away and climbing aboard. “But the face you just made was pretty cute. Allura better watch out, or I might date you.”

“Sorry, honey, you missed that train.” Lance sniffs and settles behind him. “We could just take one of the cars, you know. Veronica doesn’t care if I take hers out once in a while.”

“Yeah, but do you want to?”

Lance grins. “No.”

They tear off toward town, bypassing the mall in favor of the smaller shops that have opened up in the side streets. Lance finds a ramshackle bookstore and picks out stuff on Earth, books about its different languages and cultures, and its history. He buys her a stuffed giraffe, because it’s a weird animal and probably really close to something you’d find on Altea, if experience (Coran) has taught Lance anything. He buys a platypus too, just in case.

Lance’s plan is simple: until he can get her home, he will surround her with things that make her think she’s already there. It’s the least he can do.

He and Keith load down the bike with what they can carry and have the rest delivered to the Garrison. To Lance’s surprise, Keith sticks around and helps him fix up the apartment. He directs where things should go but lets Lance have plenty of input, based on his own sense of what Allura might like. Together they carefully make the place look comfortable, inviting.

“Are those cactuses?” asks Lance when Keith appears with some tiny pots in his arms.

“Cacti. They’re good to have around,” he says, placing them all around the apartment. “Talk to them. They like that. Music, too. I sing to mine.”

“You weird desert hobo.”

Keith smirks. “And yet here I am, helping you impress your girlfriend.”

“Sorry,” says Lance, not really sorry in the least. “Can I return the favor? I can help you impress your _fella_.” He waggles his eyebrows. Keith’s expression remains neutral.

“Nah,” he says. “I’m good.” He deposits one last cactus on the bedside table. It has a single pink flower, and Lance has to hand it to Keith, that is the one she’d want closest to her. “Anyway, I’ll see what else I can find. When’s she getting out?”

“Tuesday.”

“Alright.”

Romelle corners him the next morning, holding what looks like a little sculpture of a three-legged rhinoceros. “I heard you wanted things for Allura,” she says. She thrusts out the sculpture. “I made this last night, after Keith told me. It’s not very good, but she once told me the sangwidge is her favorite animal, so I…” Her face is crimson but her expression determined, like she’s daring him to comment on her offering.

Lance takes it from her. “This is great,” he says. “Seriously. She’s gonna love it.”

Romelle brightens and the urgent look in her eye fades a little. “You think so?” She looks pleased. “Do you need any more help? There are lots of Altean artifacts in the marketplace!”

He nods and pulls out his wallet, counting out some bills and handing them to her. “Don’t go alone, take someone with you, like one of the MFE pilots—or Pidge, she’s good at haggling.”

Romelle frowns. “Haggling?” she says, looking at Lance’s money. “What in the quiznak is this?”

“Money,” he says. “Earth money. And that is why you can’t go alone.”

“Pfft, I can handle this.” She stuffs the money in her pocket. “But I’ll bring Pidge along. Shopping alone is very boring.”

Lance sags in relief. “Get whatever you think she’ll like. I trust your judgement.”

She salutes. “Got it, mission accepted.” She turns and marches down the hallway, back straight. 

Hunk must catch wind of what Lance is doing, because he shows up that afternoon with various things donated by his parents. Hunk’s grandmother is from Upolu, and has sent along blankets and pillows dyed in intricate patterns of sea turtles and tropical flowers in the brightest colors Lance has ever seen. They fit into the mismatch of the room perfectly. Lance is suddenly inspired.

“Listen,” he says to Pidge the following say. “Do me just one favor. I’ll fucking pay you if I have to.”

Pidge gives him a sour look. “You don’t have to pay me—listen, I only said I wouldn’t help because _I literally can’t help you_. I have been wearing the same socks for a week. The rug on my floor is actually a towel. Matt likes to tell people that I am a feral child they got from the Humane Society _._ ”

“I’m not asking for the impossible,” he says, rolling his eyes. “This is something I _know_ you can do.”

Pidge looks thoughtful.  “For Allura?” she asks.

Lance nods. “For Allura.”

A few hours later, the ceiling above Allura’s bed twinkles with the Altean night sky. Lance shuts off the lights and the constellations bathe the room in soft gray.

“Looks good,” he says. “She’ll love it.”

Pidge looks up at him. “You love her so much,” she says, sounding like she’s just figured out something she’s known all along. Lance doesn’t blame her for being a little surprised. He’s never been a really serious guy, but intergalactic war tends to take it out of a person and he’s too tired these days to really be much of an asshole anymore. That’s not to say he’s not _still_ an asshole sometimes, because making Keith look constipated is still _really_ fun, but fighting aliens and then falling in love with one has really tempered him from goofy kid into something resembling an adult. Even though he doesn’t always feel like an adult, the fact that Allura loves him makes him feel like he’s doing something right.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning against the wall to watch the path of Altea’s moon play across the ceiling. “She’s it for me.”

It’s the first time he’s mentioned it to any of the others. Pidge makes a little noise and he looks at her. She’s smiling. “What?” he asks. Pidge’s smiles are sweet and unsettling.

“You reminded me so much of Shiro just now,” she says. “Like how he gets when he’s absolutely sure of something.”

“I’m absolutely sure,” says Lance. “Enough that when she wants to go back to Altea, I’m going with her.”

“What?” Pidge slaps on the lights and stares up at him. “You’re _leaving?_ But, you—”

“Pidge, please don’t fight me on this.” Lance takes her by the shoulders and stoops down to look at her. “Don’t make me choose, ‘cause you’ll get hurt.”

“Too late,” says Pidge, refusing to look at him. “Why can’t you _both_ stay?”

Lance sighs. “She wants to go home, Pidge. I know what that’s like, you know what it’s like. We all do. But _we_ got to come home. Now it’s her turn. She deserves it.”

“I know, but…” Pidge gives a shuddery sigh. “I’ll miss you guys.”

“We’re a wormhole away,” he says. “And it’s not like I’m leaving tomorrow. She’s got to recover for a while, and there’s some stuff to do on Earth first, but at the first opportunity I’m taking her home.”

“What about your family?”

Lance shakes his head. “They know. They’re sad, but they get it. We had to leave my mom’s family in Havana when she got married to my stepdad. It’s not like she never saw them again, we just had to get used to not being able to walk to their house to say hello.”

Pidge sniffles. “Who am I going to play video games with?”

“Keith,” says Lance. “Kick his ass at Mario Kart, he hates that.”

She laughs wetly and scrubs at her eyes. “Fine,” she says. “I hope you have a comfy Altean couch for all the times I’m gonna visit. Just don’t expect me to babysit, fuck that noise.”

Lance barks a laugh and pulls her into a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. She’s still small and slight but he can feel the whipcord power in her compact body as she hugs him tight. She’s grown the most of all of them, and even now she’s still definitely the favorite.

“I’ll miss you too, Katie,” he says into her frantic hair. “But I just can’t lose her again.”

A few days later, Colleen comes to him with a riot of potted flowers to go with Keith’s cacti. Matt spearheads a campaign to take photos of everyone to print out and stick to the mirror over Allura’s dresser. Bit by bit and piece by piece, the denizens of the Garrison and the Atlas crew bring trinkets and small gifts to Lance to add to Allura’s collection. He doesn’t put everything in there because there wouldn’t be any room for her, so some of it ends up at his place, but he doesn’t mind. He sets it all up in his house anyway, just in case she visits. So that everywhere is home.

Shiro finds Allura and Lance in her hospital room the night before she’s supposed to leave. He looks nervous and he’s balancing a large, flat box in his arms. “My parents sent this,” he says, placing it carefully in Allura’s lap. “Along with some other things, some food and candy, but those can wait. I thought you’d like to see this, first.”

“Even the box is lovely,” says Allura. She gleefully tears into it, she’s always been excited about presents. “Oh!” She lifts a bundle of heavy silk and her eyes shine with the deep colors of the fish painted on the fabric. “This is incredible, Shiro.”

“What is it?” asks Lance, craning his neck to try and see the whole thing.

“It’s a kimono,” says Shiro. Lance doesn’t miss his look of relief when Allura runs her hands reverently over the silk. “They’re a kind of traditional dress where my family’s from. They thought you could hang it on the wall, but you can wear it if you want. One of the Atlas crew knows how they work and said she’d help you out.” He chuckles. “I sure can’t.”

“It’s lovely, Shiro,” she says. “Please thank your parents for me. They didn’t have to send such a thing to a complete stranger.”

“They’re still here because of you,” he says. “And so am I.” He takes up the box again. “I’ll go leave this in your room. We’ll see you soon, Princess. Rest up, Hunk’s planning a feast. He promises non-dairy milkshakes. No cows involved.”

Allura laughs. “Thank quiznak,” she says, leaning against Lance again, her head on his shoulder. She closes her eyes as Shiro lets himself out of the room. “It’s so good to be here again,” she murmurs.

“Medbay’s not _that_ great, babe,” he murmurs into her hair.

She smacks him on the arm in protest. “You know what I mean, ass.” She leans over and presses a small kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Time did not pass in that place, nor was it still. But I feel as though I’ve been waiting lifetimes to see you again. Perhaps I have.”

“At this point, literally anything is possible.” Lance shifts so he can kiss her properly. “I set up your room for you.”

“Oh?” Allura smiles. “What have you done to it?”

“You’ll see,” is all he says. He’s anxious, _what if she hates it, what if I don’t actually know her as well as I think I do, what if it’s the opposite of what she likes_ , but there’s no turning back now. Just in case, he's cleaned his place spotless, so that she can stay with him if necessary, until he figures something out. It’s not like he’d mind if she did, but he really does hope she likes what he’s done for her.

As it turns out, he shouldn’t have worried. The expression on her face the next day, when she walks into the room—hair newly-trimmed shorter, clad in a green dress Hunk and Shay had picked out—and flips on the light, is like opening the first present on Christmas morning. Allura gazes around the room in wonder and Lance's chest aches.

“It’s wonderful,” she says, holding her arms out and spinning a couple of times. She inspects the photos on her mirror, touches the tips of her fingers to the needles of Keith’s contribution—and giggles at the giraffe and platypus nestled in the Samoan pillows on her bed. “Did you do all of this?”

“Everyone helped,” he says, deflecting. He’s suddenly shy about it, even though it'd been his idea. Five years ago he wouldn't have shut up about it, now he's bashful—not a change he expected the war to leave behind. He covers for it by pointing at the wall shelves he and Iverson had put up. “Romelle made the little sangwidge.” She squeaks and picks it up, turning it over in her hands.

“She remembered!” Allura holds it to her chest for a moment, then puts it back on the shelf reverently. “Oh, there’s a calicali, too.” She touches the other little sculptures. “A zoo!”

“Look at the ceiling,” he says eagerly, flipping off the lights. “Pidge did that.”

Allura looks up and tears spring to her eyes. “Lance, please come here,” she pulls him to her and kisses him soundly. “Lie down with me.” She drags him to the bed and pushes him in, arranging him on his back. She fits herself next to him, her head on his chest. He can feel her heart beating.

“Alright,” she says, apparently satisfied with their positions. She points at a cluster of tiny lights in the corner of the room. “That’s Atasare, the Five Brothers. In Altean mythology, the brothers killed a legbail that had been plaguing the oceans, and the Queen of All Things rewarded them by making them guiding lights for sailors.”

“What are their names?” he asks her, twining a hand in her hair.

He can practically hear her smile. “Well, there’s Joyeug, he’s the eldest brother and the one who shot the legbail. There’s Genfeir, he cut its tongue out so that it couldn’t scream.”

Lance twitches. “Not exactly romantic, sweetheart.”

She sniffs. “Well, if you want _that_ , there’s Janebet, over there.” She points out a pair of stars near the door. “The lovers, Janeb and Et. They were separated by a war that only ended when Et fed herself to the Shadowbeast and burned it from the inside. Janeb then killed the beast, freeing Altea from a thousand years of terror. The Queen of All Things granted them a place in the heavens together. Et is our brightest star.”

They’re silent for a moment. Lance swallows hard. “Sounds familiar,” he says softly. “Except I didn’t do anything to get you back. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what I _could_ do, since you’d become, you know, _everything_.”

“Lance, I don’t blame you for trying to move on.” She reaches up and palms his face, thumb caressing his cheek. “I was in a place from which no one should have been able to return. I still do not understand how the Lions were able to retrieve me, but they found a way. And I truly believe they were the only things that could have brought me home. There’s nothing you could have done.”

He tugs at her hair playfully and she huffs. “I get it. Alien secrets.”

“Alien secrets,” she says, decisive, amused. “Can I tell you another story, Lance?”

“You never have to ask,” he says, drawing her in for a kiss. “Tell me anything you want.” He kisses her again. She kisses back enthusiastically.

“Ah, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.” She sounds a little dazed. Lance grins.

“Might be time to stop talking for a while, then.” He kisses her a third time, a fourth, and then he loses count.

There’s plenty of time for constellations later.

—

_He can sense the others before he sees them, but they’re all here. Lance’s eyes dart around, picking out the others one by one. They all look as bewildered as he feels, and then Allura flickers into view next to him and he tries move toward her. He can’t lift his feet._

**_What’s happening?_ ** _he says. His voice sound milky and dull, like he’s speaking underwater. The others must be able to hear him, though, because they all shrug and shake their heads._

 **_Your guess is as good as mine_ ** _, says Hunk. **But this is a lot like when we’re in the Lions’ minds.**_

_Lance frowns. **Why are they talking to us now? After months? After they left?**_

“They came for me,” _says Allura. Her voice is strong and clear and she stands in the center of their circle. Lance wonders if the connection is coming from her, through her, and that’s why she radiates power in this place._ “It took them months to locate me, but they came for me.” _Her eyes are white and phosphorescent, and Lance realizes she’s not the one actually speaking._ “A request was made, and answered.”

_Shiro, standing next to Keith with a hand on his shoulder—of course, Shiro will always be a Black Paladin—frowns. **What request?** he asks._

_Allura’s voice takes on a lower timbre._ “A wrong righted,” _she intones. Her hair escapes its braid and swirls around her like water._ “A life interrupted begins anew.”

 **_Why now?_ ** _Asks Pidge. **It’s been over a year since—**_

“Time,” _says Allura,_ “means little. A year, a tick, a millennia, they are all the same. Time is not law, it is a suggestion.” _There’s a distant roar._ “The exchange begins.”

 **_Allura_ ** _, says Lance. **What does this mean? What exchange?**_

“An agreement has been reached. The sacrifice will be met.” _Allura’s eyes abruptly stop glowing. She looks directly at Lance with dawning horror. **The Lions,** she says. **They—**_

_Lance feels a collective surge of panic from the others right before the light comes, bright and hot and loud and_

**BOOM**

Lance jerks awake with a ringing in his ears. He nearly falls out of bed, but something has a death-grip on his arm. He finds Allura looking at him through the dim light, eyes full of tears.

“You saw it,” she says, struggling to sit up. “Lance—”

“Yeah,” he says. “I was there. And.” He swallows, his own eyes stinging.

“I can’t feel them at all,” she says. “Lance, I can’t feel the Lions.”

“They’re gone,” he says. “The Lions are gone.”

“The exchange was for _them_. The Lions for me.” She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. “Oh, no—” Allura sinks against him, leaning into his shoulder hard.

“Allura,” says Lance, nosing at the top of her head. “Don't.”

He swallows against the lump in his throat. He can feel Red’s—and Blue’s—absence in his head like an echo chamber. He can feel something else, that lingering panic from the not-dream, getting bigger and bigger, or rather closer and closer. He holds Allura close and kisses her hairline.

There’s a chirrup at the door. Allura leans around him and taps the panel by the bed. “Yes?” she calls out.

“It’s Shiro,” comes the voice over the intercom. Lance grabs his shirt and tosses Allura her robe, that she puts on quickly. “Sorry, I just—”

“It’s alright, come in.” Allura taps the panel again. The door slides open and a rumpled Shiro practically falls through, followed by an equally disheveled Keith. They both look rattled, pale and drawn, a little sick.

“Did you see?” Keith seems a little more crazed than usual with his hair sticking up in several different directions. “The Lions—”

Pidge and Hunk suddenly careen through the door. “Did you feel it?” asks Pidge. “Was I dreaming?”

“Not a dream,” says Lance, shoulders sagging. “They’re gone.”

Shiro sits heavily on the end of the bed in a daze. He runs his flesh hand over his face. “I haven’t felt Black’s presence in a long time, and then there she was again. For just that moment, I could feel her, loud and clear.”

“And now I can’t feel anything at all,” says Keith softly. “Even after they left, I felt a connection still. Like she’d closed the door but—”

“—left it unlocked,” finishes Hunk. He sounds so sad. “Yellow’s gone, too.”

“There’s a hollow place inside me,” says Pidge. She’s rubbing her chest. “It’s just a vacuum. It’s like being in space without the Lions again.”

“I’m so very sorry,” Allura whispers into her hands. “I’ve caused this pain.”

“Princess,” says Hunk. Lance looks at him. Hunk’s eyes are wet but his voice is strong. “The Lions were cool and everything but at the end of the day they really were just big magic robots shaped like cats that lived in our heads for a few years. You’re our friend made out of real squishy people-parts, or I guess Altean-parts, and if I had to choose—I mean, Yellow _did_ choose, she chose _you_ , and I agree with her.” He crosses his arms.

“Hard same,” says Pidge, scrambling to sit next to Shiro at the end of the bed. Keith leans against Shiro’s other side. “You didn’t cause us _pain_ , Allura. You saved the universe. Don’t ever dismiss what you gave up, and don’t dismiss the Lions’ sacrifice. They knew what they were doing, and they knew they weren’t needed anymore. But even though they’re gone, we’re still Team fucking Voltron, right?”

“Yep,” says Keith with a grin. “Go Team fucking Voltron.”

“Go Team fucking Voltron,” says Hunk, laughing.

“Go Team fucking Voltron,” says Shiro, high-fiving Pidge from across the room.

Lance swears he can feel the others swell with pride. Maybe the Lions left them a parting gift and left their connection to each other alive. He’ll mention it to Pidge, she’ll love running endless tests—especially on human subjects.

“Go Team fucking Voltron!” he cries. He kisses the side of Allura’s head. “What do you say, babe?”

They all look at her. She hesitates, then breaks into a shaky grin.

“Go Team fucking Voltron,” she says. The others burst out laughing, and Lance has never loved her more.

—

It’s hard, adjusting to life without the constant presence of the Lions in the back of his mind. There’s a gap left between his head and his heart, but having Allura back helps mediate the loss. They lean on each other, and let Allura lean on them. They cope.

Too often, however, Lance wakes up to Allura weeping in her sleep, twisting fitfully in the sheets until he gently wakes her.

“It wasn’t worth it,” she says, slumped against him, her tears sliding down his shoulder. She’s said this before, on other nights like this. “The Lions, Lance.”

“You said it yourself.” He tugs on her hair. “They knew we don’t need Voltron anymore. But we _do_  need you.”

Allura shudders. “I’m not sure why,” she whispers. “I don’t feel that I am worth more than them. They were so important, to my father and to the universe.”

“Just like you,” says Lance. “And they thought you were worth it. And to be honest, I think you’re worth way more than they were. I miss them, yeah, but I missed you like hell, Allura. More than I missed Red or Blue. Way more.”

“And I love you for saying so,” she says softly. “I don’t know how to handle this. I don’t know how to bear this burden.”

Lance hugs her close. “It’s not a burden, babe,” he says. “But if you feel like it is, then we’ll carry it together. I don’t miss them as much as I probably should, not with you here. If we’re feeling guilty right now, then I can feel bad about that.” He kisses her temple. “Let’s feel bad together.”

She elbows him lightly. “You’re entirely too good at pep talks,” she says. “Shiro’s doing, I suspect.”

“Space Dad.”

Allura laughs. “Space Dad.”

“Think you can go back to sleep?” he asks.

She shakes her head.

“Want to watch that documentary you liked again?”

She nods.

Lance finds the remote and settles in to learn about anteaters.

—

Months later, Allura is radiant as they all stand on a desert bluff overlooking the valley. She’s dressed in blue that matches the deepening sky, and the breeze cards through the flowers in her hair. Lance looks at her and forgets how to breathe. He might even cry a little, as she walks down the aisle.

It’s not even _him_ getting married, and he’s a hot mess. Jeez.

“Just fucking ask her already,” says Keith afterwards, sidling up next to him at Hunk’s massive buffet feast. His plate is full, so he’s just popping things into his mouth as he travels along the table. Lance is too impressed by the amount of food Keith’s skinny ass can put away to tell him he’s disgusting. “Also, thanks for the Kitchen Maid.” Keith crunches on a carrot that might not be a carrot, because Hunk’s _really_ good a incorporating alien ingredients with Earth food and getting something weirdly tasty out of it. Lance tries one. Yep, carrot. “Shiro really wanted one, but I’m not spending three hundred bucks on a mixer. I’m a fucking fighter pilot and assassin, I do not have time for that.”

“Fighter pilot-assassins use mixers too,” says Lance. “ _I_ want one.”

“Well then, I know what we’re getting you.” Keith shoves a biscuit in his jacket pocket. Lance makes a face, Keith shruts. “Weird desert hobo, remember? Old habits die hard. Anyway, stop deflecting, why are you waiting?”

“It has to be the right moment,” says Lance. He looks past Keith’s shoulder at Allura as she dances with Coran, tucking a rose behind his ear and laughing when he sneezes. “I want to ask her all the time. I’ve asked her a thousand times in my head, but nothing ever seems right.”

Allura suddenly spins away from Coran. When she stops, giggling wildly, she catches sight of Lance and starts toward him. Lance shoves Keith away.

“Congrats!” he says. “Mazel tov! Cheers! Sorry you have to run!”

Keith snorts. “You’re braver than you think you are,” he mutters. “I know you know that.” He stops to peck a rather puzzled Allura on the cheek before carrying his massive pile of food off toward a clutch of Blades standing with—towering over—Iverson. Keith’s wolf appears beside him, and Keith feeds him the biscuit from his pocket. Old habits, indeed.

“Hello,” says Allura, pecking his cheek. “Earth oath ceremonies are lovely. I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Kinda settles one of the Garrison’s great mysteries. Are they or aren’t they.”

Allura scoffs. “Darling, it was fairly obvious to _anyone_ paying even the slightest amount of attention. You are as blind as a plotloon, sometimes.”

“A whatnow?”

“Dance with me,” she says. “I haven’t danced in deca-phoebes.”

Immediately, Lance twists and rests his hands on her waist, tugging her in close. She laughs and throws her arms around his neck, and lets him swing her around a bit before they settle into a slower rhythm that matches the song playing from Pidge’s laptop. They sway together in the fading daylight, Lance catches sight of Keith and Shiro, not dancing so much as drifting together. He grins. It’s all so fucking _magical_ , and the contentment he can feel purring through his body isn’t entirely his own.

Lance thinks of the Lions and thanks them, wherever they are, for what’s basically a goddamn happy ending. It’s way more than he could have ever hoped for.

“Shiro’s offered to take us to Altea on the Atlas,” she says into his ear. “I told him we’d be alright with a small craft of our own, I’m quite capable of travel now, but he insisted he at least escort us there. I think he’s nervous now that the Lions are no more.”

Lance nods. “I’m fine with a giant robot bodyguard. I’m not exactly okay about them being gone, either. Not yet, anyway. Plus, it’s more time with the team, right?”

“Yes,” she says, “And… Ah.” She clears her throat and her hands flutter to his shoulders and along the sides of his neck. She seems to be studying him before her eyes find his. “Since our friends and family will be coming with us, I’ve been considering something I’d like to run by you.”

“Shoot,” says Lance, mesmerized by the almost unsettling blue of her eyes.

Allura takes a deep breath. “It’s an Altean tradition,” she says, “that oath ceremonies are occasions to be honest with those you care about, and I think it’s time to be honest with you.” She stops dancing and steps back, keeping his hands in hers. “Lance, I would like to—oh, Earth has a funny word for it.”

Lance frowns. “I have no idea, babe.” He grips her hands. “Is something wrong?”

“No—oh, I remember.” She smiles. “I’d like to, ah, marry you.”

Lance’s stomach feels just like the barrel rolls he’d pulled in the Lions. He waits for the punchline, keeping his eyes on hers, and when it doesn’t come, when Allura just stares back, his mouth falls open a little. “Wait, really?”

Allura nods. “Yes. I think it would suit us, and I love you dearly. Our oath ceremonies are a bit different, so perhaps we could have one in your custom here before we leave and a celebration at home?” She smiles a little nervously. “Lance?”

“Yes.” Lance breaks into a grin. “I mean, c’mon, of _course_. Whatever you want, I’m in. I’m in.”

“Wonderful!” She kisses him soundly, then frowns a little. “I’m afraid I haven’t got a lifechain, I’ve no idea how to get one on this planet, but I’ll get you one when we get to Altea.”

“What’s a lifechain?” Lance twirls her around to erase the tiny wrinkle from between her brows.

“It’s a gift between lovers,” she says, spinning back to him. “You wear them around your neck for the rest of your life. It shows you’ve committed to each other. It’s a bit old-fashioned, but it’s a lovely gesture.”

“Like rings on Earth,” says Lance. He wishes he’d brought the one he has stashed in his sock drawer. He still can’t believe this is happening. “I have one of those for you,” he blurts out. “It was my grandma’s.” He clears his throat. “I was going to ask you, too. Soon. I was just...” he sighs and shrugs. “Y’know,” he says sheepishly. “Didn’t know how to.”

“Well, I beat you to it,” says Allura with a wink. “What was it Keith told me?” She hums. “You snooze, you lose.”

Lance almost belly-laughs. “Earth-sayings sound amazing coming from you. I’ll teach you all of them.”

“I can’t wait,” says Allura. “Let’s go tell everyone. I want them to share in our happiness, and I’d like to make Shiro cry again.” She gives him a little smirk. He kisses it.

“Hunk’s gonna scream. Like, literally.” Something occurs to Lance and he makes a face. “Is Coran going to make me wear something goofy and weird? He made me look like space junk when I wanted to ask you out.”

Allura grins and pulls him into a spin. “Let’s not worry about that now,” she says. “Dance with me.”

Lance staggers—she is so _strong_ —and clutches her hands until they stop. “So that’s a yes.”

“You’ll live,” she says, laughing and tugging on his arms. He smiles, but his stomach twists a little. It’s not that long ago that Lance wasn’t sure there could be absolute truth to that statement. There’d been many nights when Lance lay awake on the Castle-ship, or in the Lions, wondering which day was going to be _the end_ for him. It’d really hit him when Shiro had explained that he’d actually, one-hundred-percent, three-failed-death-saves _died_ in the Black Lion after the battle with Zarkon. That had driven home the point to Lance that none of them were untouchable, death could come for them at any time—it _did_ —so Allura’s words ring through him like a bell with a cracked cup, flat and hollow. Old fears begin to creep like ice along his spine.

“Lance.” His name in her voice waves away the fog in his brain and he looks up. Allura’s standing in front of him with her hands on his cheeks, shining in the ambient light and chasing the rest of the shadows from the niches of his mind. He breathes again.

“Dance with me,” she says, grasping his hands and pulling him toward the lights.

Lance, mind clear and heart racing, follows.

—fin—

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Legbail" and "sangwidge" are words borrowed from Edward Gorey.
> 
> This is the first het ship I've done since Mulder/Scully in 1994. No joke.


End file.
